Awake to the mystery, power and magic of birth

There are many aspects of childbearing that are mysterious. 

Those of us who live, work and breathe in the childbearing space are often in awe of the beauty, power and magic that is a woman birthing her precious baby. 

This post by midwife Pat Schwaiger from Mountain Midwives in Montana USA appeared on Facebook a few days ago.  I got goosebumps while reading it as Pat articulates beautifully what many of us midwives have experienced.  

I wrote about 'calling the baby in' at birth in another post on this blog and I'm thrilled to have Pat's permission to share her story about this phenomenon here with you. For those of you who want to explore the spiritual aspect of childbearing further, I'm happy to tell you that a new book on the topic has recently been published. It's a cracking read, and the stories in it, and other stories such as Pat's below, give us pause to contemplate what we are doing to this most wondrous process with the purely medical approach of the dominant 'mainstream' western health systems. Could the medicalisation of childbirth be another 'flat earth' belief system to overcome?  

Read on and enjoy this most interesting and awe-inspiring story.

IT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT, IN LAUREL, MONTANA
by Pat Schwaiger, RN, CPM, Mountain Midwives, Billings, MT (artwork by Catie Atkinson)

"I hesitate to write about some of the more mysterious aspects of birth. I cringe when other midwives publicly speak of birth as “sacred”. I hate it when well-meaning friends introduce me as the “magical midwife”. I prefer a more professional reputation.

You see, for centuries, midwives have been judged and jailed and even burned at the stake for their involvement in things that could not be explained (mostly childbirth), and even today, the medical mainstream accuses midwives of practising less-than-scientific methods of care. Because of this, we midwives have perhaps over-compensated in defending our truly professional and educated selves, relying on evidence-based research to support every move we make.

But if a midwife does this work for very long, she will indeed see things happen that surpass all science and statistics, things that reach far beyond her wildest imagination. And if she witnesses these things with openness and a humble heart, she will eventually come to understand … that she really DOESN’T understand birth at all. Nobody does.

Still, she must be careful describing these experiences, lest she be labelled a quack or accused of telling tales. We don’t get burned at the stake anymore, but we get burned in other ways.
So, with a half dozen credentials in my pocket and 36 years of midwifery practice under my belt, I’m stepping out on a limb here to tell you one of those amazing birth tales.

It happened last night, in Laurel, Montana.
Having attended several previous births for these folks, I’m practically one of the family by now. I’m comfortable in their home, and their kids know me well. Yesterday evening, I arrived to find the mother soaking in her bathtub, with contractions coming on strong. (She loves water birth). Her dilation was seven centimetres, and fetal heart tones were good. I set up for a delivery, and left her and her husband alone, because this is how they like to have their babies.

I was right outside the door, listening and charting and waiting for them to say my name. That moment came, and I stepped into their space and knelt at the side of the tub, ready to catch. Baby’s head emerged. The cord was around the neck, and I slipped it off quickly and asked the mother to push again. A beautiful black-haired boy came out into the water, and I lifted him into his mother’s arms. There was no cry, but his movements were lively and his color was good. He kept his eyes shut. With my stethoscope, I listened to his breath sounds and his heartbeat. Everything checked out fine.
As his little knees moved outward, we saw that this was a boy. The other children were waiting in the next room, and when the dad announced the gender, a giant whoop and holler filled their whole house with joy. I was observing the baby closely then. He didn’t respond to all the hullabaloo. Still in his mother’s arms, with his mother still in the tub, his little feet made ripples in the water as we waited for the cord to stop pulsating. It had been a beautiful birth.

I stood back, watching the parents adore their child, teary-eyed and tired. We would cut the cord soon and help the mom get into bed. I kept my eye on the baby too. Although all things measurable were totally perfect, he seemed to still be in another world. I’m not sure what that means exactly, but there must be some other realm where babies live before they live here. Perhaps it is just the womb. Or perhaps it is some other unmapped reality. But when people move from that reality into our own world, it’s a conscious move, and they each do it at their own pace. Now, I’m not talking about Apgar scoring or length of second stage. No. Those things are measurable, and this kid was doing fine in those categories. But he wasn’t quite here yet. Other midwives have seen this, I’m sure, but we don’t talk about it very much.

Last night’s baby was hanging out in the other world. There was a blue-ish distance behind the tiny slits that were his eyes. His little lips were pressed shut and he was silent. He appeared closed off, somehow. It was like he was way inside of himself … or maybe somewhere way out in the Cosmos. Yet everything I could assess was totally functional. He was here. But he was somewhere else.

I’ve only said this a few times before, but last night I heard myself saying, “Come be with us, little one. It’s a good place here”. Technically, he was several minutes old by then, so it seemed an odd thing for a midwife to say.

That’s when two of his sisters, ages five and six, quietly slipped into the room. I think they knew. They stood near the tub and one of them reached forward to hold the newborn’s tiny hand. She said softly, “I love you, baby”. The other one leaned over and kissed the infant and told him “We waited so long for you”.

IMMEDIATELY, there was a spark! The baby began to wiggle like most babies do. His eyes opened wide and focused, absolutely beaming at those two little girls. Then he moved his head to look around the room and he let out a cry. It was a powerful cry, as if to say, “OK! I’m here now. I’m home. Hello everybody! It’s me!”

We already knew he was healthy and whole. I’d officially assessed everything about him, and even written it down in the chart. Obviously, we all loved this baby boy. But it took those two little girls to convince him to actually come into our world, to join us here, and to become one of us.
So … what was their magic?

Love. Spoken without fear. Spoken out loud. Pure, innocent, unscientific Love. That’s what lit the spark.

OK. Try analyzing THAT. Try identifying the evidence. Try even talking about it without losing some credibility as a professional. You won’t find this stuff in the textbooks or on YouTube. But it’s all true. Sometimes Love is what brings babies around. Sometimes Love is what brings all of us around. Love is mysterious and sacred and effective.

Now, I need to say that this doesn’t happen at every birth. In fact, I’ve only seen it a few times. But it does happen. I’ve never been bold enough - or silly enough - to write about it before. But today, it seems like a worthy birth tale to tell, because it all happened last night, before my very own eyes.
Go ahead. Burn me at the stake."

Thank you for sharing this insight into the spiritual essence of birth, Pat. 

For those of you who are reading this story, have you had similar experiences?  Please let us know. 

Giving birth is not a competition

International Women's Day has been a powerful reminder of how far we've come as a species.

IWD has also shown how far we still have to go to create a social world where the vast majority of women and many men enjoy the human rights of sovereignty and social safety to live as they desire and deserve.

From delusions of being able to create the master race to the idea that you can reduce or even eliminate risk in life, medicine and science have sought to control and dominate nature.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in the area of reproduction and in particular, for western women. Western women have come under increasing surveillance, control and criticism from medical 'experts' and the population at large during childbearing and parenting.  Conflicting advice abounds creating confusion and distress for women, all of whom want the best for their babies and want to do 'the right thing'. Women are told on the one hand that the rate of stillbirth doubles after age 40 and so induction around 37 weeks is recommended. On the other hand, other experts say that babies born early around 37 - 38 weeks with induction of labour are at risk of health problems.

What's hard to reconcile with the constant negativity with what is a very normal, human activity is that evidence shows that medical error causes more death and disability to people in hospital than motor vehicle accidents, breast cancer or AIDS. You may note that childbirth doesn't get it a look in with the comparison because the real problems with childbirth, even those caused by intervention, are so low in the western world. The other disturbing fact about hospital culture is that people are afraid to report errors because they fear recrimination. So really, we don't know what actually goes on in hospitals. Our only clue in NSW for example, is the Mothers and Babies report and that is a broad brush view.

We do not know exactly what the rate of intervention in the birthing process is doing to developing brains and human relations, but there are some signals that there are detriments.

Various individuals and groups challenge medical domination of birth and the medical profession's dismissiveness of the social aspects. There are thankfully, some enlightened doctors championing "patient" centred care and calling on clinicians to "relinquish the role as the single, paternalistic authority."

Films such as the Face of Birth, which aim to defuse the hysteria and show the social view of humanity's most primal act, have a tough gig. The media's delight in traumatic tales, coupled with 'reality TV's' depiction of birth all flavour enhanced by the medical profession's staunch opposition to birth at home and midwifery care, especially in Australia, has led to public opinion becoming increasingly hostile and disapproving of those who choose other than the 'doctor in charge' status quo. As a result, western women are becoming increasingly fearful of birth.  They are increasingly feeling under 'siege', a state of perpetual fearfulness. What is not so well known is how 'fear' affects a person's physiology.  The biochemical correlate of fear is cortisol. There is a lot of work being done on the effect of cortisol on physiological functioning and brain development for the fetus. Prenatal programming is a burgeoning field of inquiry investigating how a person's lifetime risk of disease or health is actually 'set' in the womb and dependant upon the mother's social world. We need to really wake up to what that means.

Western women are also becoming increasingly insecure about their parenting, which for heaven's sake is hard enough without the avalanche of 'advice' and disapproval from all and sundry.  I have been reading the comments under the mass media's articles on birth at home and the different perspectives are fascinating and show how we all see life through our own lenses of beliefs and experiences.  What, however is alarming, is the punitive and nasty way that some people respond to people's choices.

The scorn and criticism heaped on women who choose to do things differently, no matter what 'norm' is being touted by whichever interest group, is horrendous and needs to stop.

Where a woman gives birth and who she gives birth with is her business. For anyone to think they care more about a woman's life and baby than she does is the height of ignorance and arrogance. Our job as a society is to support women's choices because the evidence is clear that when a women feels supported and has choices her cortisol level is lower and her physiology and therefore her baby's physiology is more likely to be 'normal'.

Birth is NOT a competition.

It is about feeling safe, supported and respected.  Interestingly, the outcomes, including those of maternal satisfaction, are very very good when that is the situation. On another note, so many people downplay the need for the woman to feel good after birth - the health and wellbeing of the family are enhanced when a woman feels loved, respected and cared for, so that should be the focus of society.  We need to ask ourselves where does she feel safe and how can we, as a society support her in that?

Meanwhile, in too many countries, women are dying in childbirth.  The current estimate is that around 1000 women die every day giving birth.  That statistic is shocking and, with the right conditions, preventable.  These statistics illustrate clearly the social determinants of health and disease. Women are dying because in their cultures, they are "nothing" - they are worthless in the eyes of their culture  - they are the possessions of their partners or parents; they have no access to contraception and often have (too) many children, their nutrition is very poor, they are dreadfully anaemic, in some areas have malaria, HIV/AIDS and live with domestic violence and the threat of more of it hanging over their heads. Their living conditions are harsh. If we use Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs to think about the social determinants of health, you can readily see that these women exist without even their basic human needs being met. No wonder the challenges of reproduction are sometimes too great for them.  These women do not have the best conditions at home to give birth there - even the hospitals are poorly equipped and lacking in staff, but at least there may be someone there, with some education and training, who can support them and help them give birth safely. We know that when there is a strong and capable midwifery profession,  childbearing women and their babies do well.  Capacity building midwifery education is one of AusAid's projects to improve maternal and neonatal wellbeing and decrease mortality and morbidity rates in PNG.

People in the western world who are so concerned with what childbearing women do and where they give birth need to turn their attention to the developing world and work on making it safer for all women and their children.  We are, after all, living in a global village. What affects one, affects us all.

Instead of making birth a "who's right or wrong' competition, let's make it about cooperation, compassion and support.

If we want a peaceful society and happy mothers and babies, we would do well to ensure women felt loved and cared for, respected and nurtured, fed good food, rested, kept away from bad news and surrounded by loving family and friends and able to give birth the way they want to, with people they know and trust around them.